


the world beyond

by orphan_account



Series: where we aren't [2]
Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with an unhappy ending, F/M, Interwoven Flashbacks, Jughead gets deep and philosophical
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-07
Updated: 2017-12-07
Packaged: 2019-02-11 20:18:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,275
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12942990
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: "Right now, there’s a universe out there where he and Betty are happy together. Alas, it just so happens to not be this one." Ten years after their separation, a chance encounter between Betty and Jughead brings forth truth, closure, and all the unspoken in-between.Or: Jughead Jones contemplates choices, fate, and the multiverse.





	the world beyond

 

_baby, we don’t stand a chance_

_it’s sad but it’s true_

_-_ sam smith, “too good at goodbyes”

 

 

 

To his own surprise, Jughead is a believer of the theory of the multiverse.

Right now there’s a version of him spending Christmas with his parents and Jellybean, happy and content. Right now there’s a version of him that’s visiting his father in jail, serving a life sentence. Right now, there’s a version of him that’s long dead, his life cut short in a motor accident on Sweetwater bridge, his memory all but forgotten. Right now, there’s a version of him that’s coming home to his beautiful wife with shining blonde hair and their two children, with a third on the way. He tries hard not to think about that one in particular, never lets his mind wander far enough to see his youngest son’s face. He stops himself, every time.

If the multiverse does exist, there has to be at least one universe where he and Betty don’t end up together. Here and now just happens to be it. When he thinks of it this way, when he convinces himself that this is all the work of the multiverse, it’s strangely comforting. It’s like neither of them was to blame. They were simply chess pieces on a board, fighting and resisting but ultimately powerless, with no choice but to submit themselves to the will of a higher power. To fate.

But then there is a tiny part of him that knows this to be untrue. It’s just a lie he invents one day to stop his mind from crumbling under all the excruciating pain and guilt. And it helps. So, like a morphine junkie, he keeps telling himself that lie every day, repeats it until it starts becoming the truth.

Because to look the other way is to be faced with endless what ifs and could’ves and should’ves and maybes. Maybe he should’ve fought harder for her, for them. Maybe he could’ve tried harder to be better, for her. Maybe, maybe, maybe.

 

 

 

She’s getting married, or so he hears. They don’t exactly talk anymore.

In fact, he doesn’t think he would ever get the news of her upcoming nuptials if it wasn’t for a run-in with Archie at the local coffee shop. _They_ don’t talk anymore either, now that he thinks about it, as he listens to his old friend give him a gentle scolding for failing to keep in touch.

He tries to excuse himself before Archie can get too deep into the details of his blissful domestic life, to stories of his toddling son, before that accusatory voice in his head has a chance to rear its ugly head, as it has done so many times over the past five years. He knows he’s fighting a losing battle, though. The voice always beats him to it.

 _That could’ve been you, if you’d fought hard enough. Instead you gave up. You think you have a right to be bitter? You have no one to blame but yourself._ The voice stirs a memory inside him, something he had taken care to carefully hide underneath layers and layers of his mind. Funny how the mind works, he thinks. You spend so long suppressing something, and all it takes is a briefest mention for it to come back with a vengeance.

 _“I’m not giving up on us,” Betty told him, eyes brimming with tears. “We’ve survived so much worse. We can make this work. We_ will _make this work.”_

_“How?” he asked her then, frustration boiling inside him. “Do you know what distance does to people, Betty? It nearly tore us apart once, and we were in the same small town with a population of two thousand people at best. Hell, it tore my family apart. I haven’t seen my mom and Jellybean since the day they packed up and left us.”_

_“We can call each other,” she persisted, though distress was beginning to show on her face, in her voice. “I can visit, or you can visit me. We’ll take turns. Lots of people have made it work, Jug.”_

_“You know, that’s exactly what my mother told me, and guess who’s been MIA, save for one phone call, made by me by the way, for three years now? Face it, Betty, even if we tried, eventually it’s just going to be delaying the inevitable.”_

_“You don’t know that. You’re not giving it a chance. You’re not giving us a chance!” she was yelling now, voice an octave higher._

_“Maybe we’d be excited to see each other for the first couple times. Then, when the novelty wears off and we each become too preoccupied with our separate lives, we’d just slowly drift apart without even realizing it. In the end, it’ll just be a game of diminishing returns.” he lowered his voice and aimed his best at an imitation of a tone he hoped was at least mildly comforting. He tried to smile too, but judging by the look on her face, it must have looked more like a pathetic grimace than anything. “You’ll see, it’s for the best.”_

_The sound that came from her was the quietest he’d ever heard her speak in his life. It was the sad, dejected sound of resignation, of disappointment. “I thought you had more faith in us than this. I thought you’d at least try to fight for us.”_

Betty was always a fighter. It was one thing he loved _(loves, the voice reminds him)_ about her (though to be fair, he loves everything about her). She always fought for him, for them. She fought to help him bring his walls down, to open up to love. She fought for his father’s freedom. She fought for them even as the brewing civil war threatened to split the two of them apart down the middle. No matter the odds, she always held onto them and their love. It was thanks to her that they survived a murder, a masked killer terrorizing the town, him joining a criminal gang, her disapproving parents, and them being on opposite sides of the interminable Riverdale civil war.

He laughs bitterly. To think they have survived so much, only to be torn apart by something as trivial in comparison as the distance from New York to Los Angeles. To think Betty fought for so long, held on so hard, only for him to give up so quickly, let go so easily at the last minute.

It wasn’t some silly idea of fate or the multiverse that tore them apart. It was him. He failed her, and failed them. She was so ready, so willing to make it work, and instead of meeting her halfway, he slammed the door in her face and sent her away.

 

 

 

“You’ll come to the birthday party, won’t you?”

His flight instinct kicks in almost immediately, and he has to restrain himself from bolting for the door. There is a reason why they haven’t been talking, and it is, objectively, an entirely selfish one on Jughead’s part. He can’t bear it – the blissful domesticity of it all, the living, breathing proof that high school sweethearts can, in fact, make it. A painful reminder of what he could have had, with her. So Jughead does what Jughead does best – he avoids his friends as best as he can. He runs away from it all.

Because to look the other way is to be faced with the living proof that he was wrong, and the countless regrets that come with the faintest possibility that he had been sabotaging his own happiness with his fatalistic outlook on life.

He has half a mind to make up a weak excuse. _Oh, my editor is harping on me_ _to get a draft out by Friday, I’m afraid I can’t make it. My best wishes to the little guy. Oh, Jellybean is coming to visit me this week and I’ve already promised to be her tour guide for the whole day, I’ll make it up to you some other time?_ But then he looks into Archie’s expectant puppy eyes, his enthusiastic and hopeful smile, and remembers how his best friend doesn’t have a mean bone in his body, and can’t ever hold a grudge for longer than five minutes, how he wasn’t the least angry or resentful that Jughead kept blowing him off for the past few years, and gives in.

For the steadfast friendship and loyalty he’s given Jughead all his life, without ever asking or expecting anything in return, he owes Archie that much.

 

 

 

Something about the chance encounter must have awakened some well-hidden nostalgia in him, he muses as he traces the colorful foil lettering ( _Lodge-Andrews_ , it says) on the invitation with one hand and turns the old, slightly worn photo in the other. He remembers the day it was taken, remembers how he had to be wrestled into it by the combined efforts of Betty and Veronica. At Veronica’s suggestion-turned-insistence, it was their first outing to commemorate him once again attending Riverdale High, and (again, at Veronica’s suggestion-turned-insistence) they decided to take a snapshot to commemorate the commemoration.

_In hindsight, perhaps the fact that all four of them finally being reunited after so long must have made them particularly chipper that day. “Something for our future children,” Veronica announced, still high on the sheer joy of having the whole gang back together again._

_“Team Lodge-Andrews is getting ahead of themselves,” Jughead shot right back, an attempt to prod Veronica into making a snarky response._

_“I prefer the term ‘planning ahead’, but you do you, girl. They’re gonna need help visualizing the setting of all the stories of their parents’ shenanigans somehow, right?”_

Well, that did come true, as it turns out. Archie and Veronica as the high school sweethearts that made it work. Archie and Veronica as the young lovers who beat the odds, who beat the distance between them. Archie and Veronica organizing a birthday party for their son. Archie and Veronica as the ones telling their children of all the stories of their teenage shenanigans.

The thought of having children never once crossed their minds then, it seemed like such a faraway future, such a heavy topic for a couple of sixteen-year-olds. Their lives were so chaotic that the only thing they truly focused on was living minute by minute as best as they could. The future outside Riverdale was an inevitability, but one they actively put off in favor of more immediate, pressing concerns. It hung there, at the back of their minds, taking a backseat, filed under _“to deal with later”._

Maybe that’s where they went wrong.

Maybe they should have had the foresight to plan ahead. To make sure their visions of the future aligned, to make sure they were on the same page. Or maybe, they should have had the sense to realize that a life together was never going to be possible, and cut their losses before they got in too deep.

Instead, they were swept up in a passionate love affair, drunk on the exhilarating joy of first love, naïve in the belief in everlasting love, confident in the idea that they could overcome anything thrown their way by sheer power of love alone, blind to the world that lay beyond Riverdale.

To them, the vast outside world meant a sea of possibilities to start afresh, to escape the hellhole that was the small town they both called home. It never even occurred to them that its vastness also meant there was more than one option, more than one path, and that they would end up taking different ones.

 

 

 

_After some extensive soul-searching, he is slightly dismayed to find that given the chance, he would have made the same choice all over again._

_The truth was, Betty didn’t make NYC. He did._

_The truth was, Betty made Boston and L.A._

_The truth was, Betty had always dreamed of going to L.A. for college._

_The truth was, the distance between NYC and L.A. is greater than the distance between Boston and NYC._

_The truth was, Betty was going to throw L.A. away to be closer to him._

_Jughead could see it all so clearly before his eyes. The way Betty’s eyes had lit up, if just for a split second, when she talked about L.A. The way she quickly covered up her joy at being accepted, as if she was betraying him somehow. The way her smile didn’t quite reach her eyes and her voice came off too forcefully when she told him she’d choose Boston. All the signs were there, laid out in front of him, awaiting his next move. The ball was in his court now._

_The truth was, the one thing standing between Betty and her lifelong dream was him. The truth was, the one thing preventing her from reaching her full potential was him._

_The truth was by loving her, he was holding her back. Ruining her._

_Everything he touched turned to ashes._

_So the next time they saw each other, the words came tumbling out of his mouth, almost hastily, like he was afraid that he’d change his mind and be selfish again if he was given time to reconsider._

_“I think you should go to L.A.”_

 

 

 

The room is bustling with parents and toddlers alike, bursting with rainbow streamers and colorful balloons, filled with the sounds of children’s laughter and adults chatting with each other or exclaiming in alarm whenever one of the kids get too close to the pile of presents stashed in the corner.

Amid this extravagant gathering of happy families, Jughead has never felt more like an outsider, as if his mere presence is intruding on something sacred, a kind of happiness that he will never have, or deserve to have.

 _Everything you touch turns to ashes_ , the voice whispers.

“You made it, man,” Archie’s voice interrupted his train of thought, to Jughead’s immense relief and gratitude. “Come say hi to Ronnie, she’s in the kitchen.”

With that, Archie throws an arm around his shoulders, guiding him with the caution of someone who’s expecting his best friend to bolt out the front door any minute now. Which, considering how Jughead is feeling at this moment, the desire must be showing on his face, obvious enough that even Archie has caught on to it.

“Yeah, sure,” he replies absentmindedly, and with a last apprehensive look over his shoulder at the chaos in the foyer, lets himself be herded to the kitchen.

The kitchen is so big that it takes them a bit to find Veronica (Jughead makes a mental note to do more research on the life of the 1% for his current book, because what he’s seeing before his eyes is beyond even his wildest imaginations) but they can already hear her voice echoing through the vast room.

“It’s beautiful. I’m jealous,” she gushes to someone, a hint of playfulness in her voice.

What follows is a laugh that Jughead knows all too well, because it used to be his favorite sound in the whole world. Suddenly he’s yanked back in time and he’s sixteen again, cracking corny jokes and making cheesy literary references, planting kisses on just the right places at just the right times, just to hear her laugh. To this day, it still remains the most gratifying feeling in the world, to know that even if just for a few fleeting seconds, he was able to make her happy.

“Come on, V. You’re just saying it ‘cause you’re my best friend. I know you’ve seen thousands of rings way more flashy and glamorous than this.”

His steps falter and he falls behind just slightly, but enough for Archie to notice. Jughead silently curses his friend’s new-found observance.

“You okay, man?” he asks, with such innocent ignorance that for a moment, Jughead contemplates glaring, or perhaps giving him a pointed look, before deciding against it. He is way too old to be making a scene at parties, and it would be bad form to do so at his estranged friends’ son’s first birthday.

He considers the marginally less rude option of making a mad dash for the front door, but Veronica happens to have excellent hearing (no doubt a result of years’ worth of practicing eavesdropping on the hottest gossip, he muses) and quickly quashes any chances of him making a quiet retreat with a simple, innocuous, “Archiekins?”

“Yeah, Ronnie. Be there in a minute.”

Too late.

So instead he nods a silent confirmation, soldiers on, and lets himself be overtaken by an overwhelming sense of dread and panic.

How could Archie not tell him? Scratch that, how could _he_ not see this coming? Of course she’d be here. Of course. What is he supposed to say to her? They haven’t seen each other in close to a decade. Does she still hate him? Or worse, does she just not care anymore? Does she-

“Oh my God, look what the cat dragged in,” Veronica exclaims upon seeing him. He keeps his gaze firmly on her, not daring to look at the person to her left. “Jughead Jones, in the flesh. How long has it been, four years? Five? We were starting to wonder if you’ve gone into some writer’s self-imposed exile, never to return to civilization.”

“Hey, Veronica,” he manages, trying to sound as nonchalant as he can, unsure how successful his attempt was. “Yeah, sorry. I guess life just sort of… got in the way.”

“Who knew I’d be so excited to have all four of us in the same room again,” Veronica continues, seemingly unaware of the sudden awkward tension in the room. He’s sure Archie must have noticed, given how uncharacteristically silent he’s been since they came face to face. “It finally feels like old times. Right, Betty?”

“Yeah,” a voice next to her speaks up, soft and gentle, just the way he remembers. And then she adds, “It’s nice to see you again, Juggie,” and so casually, so innocuously, throws his universe off-balance.

 _Juggie_. With just one word, she’s brought back a torrent of memories. Some faded, some clear as if they happened just yesterday. Happy ones, painful ones, and all the ones in-between. Weekends at Pop’s with milkshakes and burgers. Hasty goodnight kisses at her bedroom window. Hours in the library, each of them lost in their own world behind pages of a book, comfortable in the silence, content with each other’s company. Sneaking kisses under the blankets on a cold winter night as the wind howls through the tiny cracks in the ceiling of the trailer. Laying out two acceptance letters from two different schools and watching helplessly as the future they planned together became less like a possibility and more like a fantasy instead.

 _Juggie_. How long has it been since he’s heard it? Who was the last person who called him that? It’s been so long that he genuinely doesn’t remember anymore. But the moment the word fell from her lips, it felt like coming home after a long journey and inhaling the familiar scent of home. Like getting on a bike after a long time and instantly getting the hang of it again. Like suddenly remembering a random fact you’ve forgotten about for a while. Like no time has passed at all.

“You too, Betty,” he replies simply, and finally, dares to looks at her. She is so breathtakingly beautiful that for a moment, he can’t breathe. 

A moment of silence passes by in which no one says anything. Jughead finds his gaze once again fixated on the string of pearls around Veronica’s neck, counting them. He gets to seven when Veronica finally breaks the silence.

“Right,” she says uncertainly, the word perhaps more drawn out than is necessary. “Okay. Well, we’ll leave you two to catch up. Archie and I got to entertain our guests and make sure no one throws up on that carpet Daddy got us as a wedding gift. Come on, Archiekins.”

As they shuffle out of the kitchen, he catches Betty whispering something to Archie with a panicked look on her face. Archie whispers something back and shrugs, and Betty lets go of his sleeve with a defeated look on her face before he and Veronica hurry out.

They’re alone in the kitchen, with nothing but the sound of muffled chatter in the distance.

“Congratulations,” he blurts out before he can stop himself. It comes out more forced than he intended, so he clarifies, softer this time, his gaze indicating her left hand. “on your engagement.”

Betty looks as if she’s been snapped out of a daze. “Oh! yeah,” she says, too quickly, too enthusiastically, as if reciting a rehearsed speech. “Thank you. We’re so excited. Adam is so happy.”

It takes all of his self-restraint to not follow up with a question. _Are you happy?_ he wants to ask, then immediately mentally kicks himself. What business does he have being jealous? He gave up on her years ago. He’s had his chance and he blew it and now he has no right to be anything but happy for her.

Still, Jughead is a creature of habit, and even the oldest habits can resurface at the tiniest reminder. And having her here, standing in front of him right now, well, it’s a pretty damn big reminder. So he does what he always did: He tries to read her, to see underneath the façade she’s putting on, to uncover the deepest truths that she hides from everyone, even herself. But time changes people, and he isn’t sure if he really knows her anymore, much less understands her.

He wonders how one can be in the same room with someone and still feel like they’re halfway across the world from that person.

Suddenly, Betty’s attention is snatched away by a wandering toddler tugging at her jeans, and she disappears into the crowd with an apologetic smile, leaving him alone in the kitchen.

The party rages on, its chaos mirroring the one inside his mind.

_She was trying to put on a brave face, but in all the years they’ve known each other, Jughead had picked up the unique skill of being able to read what was underneath Betty Cooper’s patented façade, and he knew the truth. But Betty had also learned to read him, and this resulted in an awkward stalemate where he knew she knew he knew, but neither dared to say anything, instead letting the revelation hang there in the air around them, weighing down on their shoulders, the silence of all that was left unspoken ringing deafeningly in their ears._

_“I got waitlisted.”_

_He leaned in closer to her, rubbing her back in small circular motions in what he hoped was a comforting gesture. “That’s alright. Worst case scenario, you still have Boston. Sure, we might not be as close to each other as we initially planned, but –“_

_“I got into CSUN.” she blurted out, and his hand stopped dead in its track._

_“In L.A.?”_

_“Yeah. That’s the one,” she said, and for the first time that day, he could detect a hint of a smile, even though she tried hard to suppress it. “I wasn’t expecting to get in, it wasn’t my first choice, not even close. I just thought, why not try it out, see what I’m made of.”_

_“Wow, Betty”, was all that he managed. “That’s great! I’m… I’m proud of you.”_

_She was beaming now, but a moment later her face fell, as if she felt guilty for being happy, for being proud of her own accomplishments. Why? Because she was afraid he’d be mad? Because she didn’t want him to think she could prioritize something else over their relationship? Something stirred inside him, a voice screaming how_ wrong wrong wrong _that was, but he determinedly pushed it down. He was not ready to face it. Not yet._

_“But I’m not serious about it, anyway,” Betty continued, speaking too quickly and way too enthusiastically for someone whose plan A just went up in flames. “You’re right, if all else fails, I’ve still got Boston. And it’s a waitlist, but who knows, miracles do happen.”_

_Oh, but if there was one thing Jughead was not a believer of, it was miracles._

After spending most of the party standing around in a corner and picturing his future as the weird uncle to the Lodge-Andrews rascals and occasional couch surfer/free loader to his chagrined friends, Jughead finds himself standing outside the Dakota, breathing in the chill of the night air as he tries to light a cigarette.

“You smoke,” it’s a question, he knows, even though it wasn’t phrased as one. “Those things will kill you.”

He shrugs, taking a drag on the cigarette and blowing a cloud of smoke skyward. Out of the corner of his eye, he can see her brows are furrowed, ever so slightly. He knows it’s selfish, but he can’t help that tiny twinge of satisfaction, knowing that between the two of them, he’s not the only one feeling like he doesn’t recognize the person standing in front of him anymore.

“I didn’t know you were in town,” he says, aiming for a casual conversation starter.

She smiles sadly. “Well, I wouldn’t miss this for the world. After all, I did miss the wedding.”

He turns to look at her so quickly he almost gave himself whiplash. She gives him an odd look, then realization spreads over her face.

“Well,” she laughs. “I guess we’re both kind of shitty friends, huh?”

 _Oh. Right. That._ Jughead is surprised to find himself disappointed. _Asshat. She’s getting married._ _You really thought the reason she didn’t come to the wedding was because she was still pining after you?_

“It’s still early,” Betty’s voice cut through his train of thought again. She’s looking at the looming skyscrapers around them, seemingly lost in thought. “I’m going back to L.A. tomorrow, and we haven’t seen each other in ages. Wanna go grab a bite? We can catch up.”

Jughead smiles, and it’s genuine. “Sure.”

They’re walking through the crowded streets, and Jughead is once again surprised to find himself easily falling into step next to her, like the past ten years never happened, like they’re once again teenagers taking a stroll on Sweetwater bridge on one of their rare days off, and for a moment, everything is right in the world.

“So what have you been up to?” Betty asks, and he is yanked back to reality. “I imagine you have lots of stories to tell. It’s been a while, anyway.”

“Writing, mostly,” He tells her. “I’m working on my second book.”

“Figures,” she smiles, and his heart does a somersault in his chest. “And your novel? Riverdale’s very own _In Cold Blood_?” she says with a mischievous twinkle in her eyes, and he can’t help but smile a little.

“Got it published, miraculously enough. Half the credit is yours, though. You were the one who painstakingly circled every single one of my semicolons with a red marker.” and then, an attempt at levity. “Never missed a single one. Truly an outstanding feat.”

She’s laughing now, and he feels that distant but familiar feeling of pride. “Your obsession with semicolons is abhorrent. I hope you’ve grown out of that phase by now, otherwise you should have your writer’s card revoked.”

“Hey!” he nudges her shoulder slightly with his own, feigning offense. She giggles.

It’s amazing, he thinks, how easy it is to fall back into that familiar comfort with her, even with a decade’s worth of physical separation between them. How strange, that the feeling of staring at a stranger wearing the face of an old friend that he felt back at the party has so quickly evaporated after just a short conversation. Time changes people, but there are some things that are too strong to be erased completely. He takes an odd kind of comfort in it.

“Enough about me,” he begins, a careful attempt to change the subject. “What have _you_ been up to, Cooper?”

“L.A. Weekly,” she announces dramatically, a hint of pride in her voice. “It’s great. Way more organized than the Register.”

“That’s just pointing out the obvious,” again, he blurts out before he can stop himself. “Didn’t the Register have exactly two employees? I mean… I didn’t…”

Betty waves him off. “No, you and I both know it’s true. The Register mostly served as mom’s soapbox to stir the pot rather than a reliable source of objective news report, anyway.”

“Well, it looks like life is treating you well, Betty,” he tells her, trying to lighten up the conversation. “You live in a great city, you’ve got the perfect job… and you’re getting married.”

At this, he notices her playing with the ring on her finger, her expression unreadable. Suddenly, the mood changes, the tension returns, and Jughead almost regrets bringing up the subject.

Luckily, they don’t have much time to dwell on it, as bright red neon signs alert them to the fact that they’ve arrived at their destination.

Jughead watches Betty’s reaction closely. She stares at the restaurant in awe, and something that may have looked like a combination of nostalgia, joy, and sadness flickers through her face as she tries (and fails) to inconspicuously wipe at her eyes.

“I haven’t been here in years. I’ve missed it so much. It’s my favorite place in NYC.”

Holding the door open for her, he replies matter-of-factly. “I remember.”

After all, how could he ever forget? It’s the place that marked the beginning of the end for them.

The red neon letters shine bright in the night.

**KAT’Z DELICATESSEN**

_“What?” Betty looks confused and wide-eyed. Clearly, out of all the things she expected him to tell her, this wasn’t one of them._

_“I think you should go to L.A.,” he repeated._

_“But I told you, I’m choosing Boston.”_

_“And I’m telling you, Boston’s not really what you want. You know it too.” he said, not unkindly._

_“It’s closer to you,” she argued, too stubborn to accept defeat just yet._

_“That shouldn’t be the only reason why you’re choosing it,” he laughed despite himself. “Betty, it’s college. It’s probably the most important decision in your life.”_

_Betty fell silent, looking as if she was internally wrestling with a question with no easy answer. Jughead took this as cue to go on._

_“Tell me, honestly, that you’re happy with this. Just tell me. Are you happy?”_

_Betty bit her lip. Finally, she spoke, her voice firm. “Yes. I am.”_

_Jughead knew this to be a lie._

 

 

 

They order, and sit in silence. They’re stalling, he knows. Delaying the inevitable.

Finally, he decides to be the proactive one for once.

“Are we going to talk about it?”

Betty looks at him, and does an awful job of feigning ignorance. “About what?”

He gives her a pointed look. “You know what, Betty.”

“There is nothing to talk about,” she deadpans. “It was a long time ago.”

“Doesn’t matter if it happened yesterday or a lifetime ago,” he insists. “We never talked about it, and now we need to. This has been hanging over us for far too long now.”

She takes a deep breath, and another moment to gather her thoughts. “You really hurt me, Jug.”

“I know. And I’m sorry.”

She ignores him and continues. “I really thought… that you had more faith in me than that. That you had more faith in _us_ than that. We survived so much, Jug. To be torn apart by something as mundane and easily fixable as that... it hurt. It still does.”

“I know.” he sounds like a broken record now, because he genuinely does not know what else to say at this moment.

“Why did you do it?” she asks, and he can see tears welling up in her eyes. He hates himself for it, hates himself for hurting her so much and for so long. “You convinced me to follow my dreams and then you dumped me. Did you think I was going to find someone shinier and leave you? Why? I would’ve fought for you. I would’ve fought for us, if you’d just met me halfway.”

“That’s… part of it, yeah,” he admits with a sigh. “But it’s not the whole truth.”

Betty’s eyes widen just a little. “What do you mean?”

 

 

 

 _Jughead carefully reviewed all the information in his head, and came to the conclusion that yes, something was indeed_ wrong _and it was time to face it._

_He loved Betty, that much he was certain. He loved her loyalty to those she loved, he loved that she never gave up on them._

_But the way she had been so willing to throw away her dream and settle for something less just to be with him… he didn’t want that. He wanted her to be happy. He would always be grateful that out of all the people willing to love her, she had chosen him._

_But if loving him meant she always had to make sacrifices… If loving him meant that she wouldn’t be living the full life she otherwise could live… What if something happened to him and she would ditch her plans and life all over again to fly across the country to be with him? Knowing her, her heart and mind would always be longing for him, nearly three thousand miles away from her. In other words, his very existence was preventing her from being happy._

_He didn’t deserve her love; he had nothing to give her in return. Nothing but love, but you can’t live on love alone, can you?_

_As much as it pained him to admit, he was the roadblock in her life. There was only one thing left to do: remove himself from the equation._

_But how would one go about doing that to a fighter like Betty Cooper?_

 

 

Betty sits there in stunned silence.

“You should have told me,” she finally speaks up, voice furious. “We figure things out _together_ , remember? You don’t get to make that decision on your own. You don’t get to push me away without me having a say in it.”

“I know, and I’m sorry,” he repeats his mantra, hanging his head. “I genuinely thought I was making the right decision. I… I didn’t want to be a burden to you, Betty. I wanted you to be happy.”

“But I would have been happy with you,” she insists, and the tears are coming back. “Don’t you understand? I was happy with you. Yeah, I love L.A., but I would have made it work with Boston, or anywhere else. Life is flexible that way, Jug.”

“I’m not trying to take credit for being a love martyr here,” Jughead explains. “I know I screwed up. I assumed the worst, and no matter why I did it, how noble the cause, I still did it. I gave up on us.”

A moment of silence passes before Betty speaks again.

“Yeah,” she says, voice sad. “Yeah, you did.”

“And now it’s too late.”

She’s crying now, and he has to restrain himself from reaching over and wiping away her tears.

“I didn’t come to the wedding,” she admits between sniffles. “Because it hurt too much, to see Archie and Veronica together.”

He looks at her, not quite believing what he’s hearing.

“I mean, don’t get me wrong, I’m happy for them. But I look at them and I see the possibility that that could have been us, and it hurt so much. We were all together around the same time, and they’re still going strong, while we have long fallen apart. They’ve shown us that it’s possible, that you _can_ live happily ever after. I can’t face that possibility.”

He reaches out to place his hand on top of hers, for just a brief moment.

“Well, I guess we’re more similar than we think we are.”

She wipes away her tears, and gives him a weak smile.

“I like that one bit in your book,” she tells him. “The one where the girl next door and the loner from the wrong side of the tracks overcome obstacles thrown at them and live happily ever after. It gives me hope, that there’s a universe out there where they make it.”

It takes him far too long to realize what that means.

“You read my novel,” he whispers, still disbelieving.

She nods and laughs, but it comes out more strangled than happy.

Jughead wishes they could stay like this forever, but the world around them keeps on turning mercilessly, stopping for no one.

Finally, he asks the one question he’s been meaning to ask her the moment he laid eyes on her at the Dakota.

“Are you happy?”

Betty bites her lip. Finally, she speaks, her voice firm. “Yes. I am.”

Jughead says nothing.

 

 

 

“Do you…” she begins, then hesitates, as if she’s carefully deliberating her choice of words. “Do you still…”

“Yes,” he doesn’t wait for her to finish. They both know what she’s about to ask, and he can’t bear to hear the question in its entirety.

For a long moment, she remains silent, but when he looks at her, he swears he can see her lower lip quivering, just the slightest of movements, undetectable unless you were really looking for it. He screws his eyes shut, waiting for the inevitable.

The silence seems to stretch on for hours before she speaks again.

“Adam and I… he proposed. I said yes. You understand.”

He can’t stop himself from letting out a bitter laugh. “There is nothing more to understand because it’s all so clear, Betty. Between him and me, the choice is obvious. I could never give you what he can: security, stability, a normal life. Good things. And if there’s anyone who deserves good things, it’s you, Betty Cooper.”

She smiles, but it doesn’t quite reach her eyes. “Maybe our timing just isn’t right,” she says, voice barely above a whisper. “Maybe in another life, or maybe just under different circumstances, we could have been.”

He smiles too, but there’s no mirth in it. “I would have ruined you. I would have held you back, dragged you down the endless downward spiral that is my life. All that I can ever give you is my love, and that might have been enough when we were sixteen, but it’s not anymore. I want you to be happy, Betty. I want you to be free. It’s all I’ve ever wanted for you.”

“Jug.” she reaches across the table, but he recoils and avoids her gaze.

“Adam.” he reminds her.

She makes no further attempt to reach out, and Jughead can’t tell if what he’s feeling in the pit of his stomach is relief, disappointment, or something in-between.

Around them, the world slows to a crawl. The lights from a passing car reflect off the band on her finger, and he finds himself transfixed, unable to look away.

 

 

 

_“Mommy, please,” Betty begged as she stood on her tiptoes peering at the stack of paper on her mother’s desk, all the while trying her hardest not to whine, as her mother would not take very kindly to such poor behavior. “Can I go play with Archie? Please? For just a little bit?”_

_Alice sighed. “All right, sweetheart,” she said, putting her pen down. “But only for ten minutes, and I’m coming with.”_

_Playtime was never fun under her mother’s watchful eye (“For goodness’ sake, stop slouching, Elizabeth!”, “Don’t hold that too close to your eyes, it’s bad for you!”), but Betty knew better than to argue with her mother. Instead, she did her best to contain her excitement as she waited for Alice to get ready._

_When they arrived at the Andrews’ backyard, Archie was engaged in a discussion (if Archie doing most of the talking could count as a discussion) with a boy she’d never met before. He perked up when he saw her._

_“Betty!” Archie runs up to her and takes her hand, pulling her onto the grass. “You can be the judge. I think Pureheart the Powerful would totally beat Captain Hero in a fight, but Jughead keeps saying I’m wrong. You think I’m right, right?”_

_“Jughead?” Betty couldn’t help but giggle. The boy in question shot her a withering look._

_“Oh, right! I almost forgot!” Archie jumped up, suddenly excited. “Betty, this is Jughead. Jughead, this is Betty, my best friend in the whole wide world.”_

_Jughead’s eyes met hers and he gave her a small nod and what could pass as a tiny smile. He was quiet and somewhat solemn, the complete opposite of Archie, she noted._

_“Jughead…” she contemplated for a moment. “So… Juggie, then?”_

_“No,” he said with such finality and looking so ridiculously scandalized that both Archie and Betty burst into laughter. “Not Juggie. Just Jughead.”_

_“Alright,” Betty said after she’d finally recovered. “It’s nice to meet you, Juggie.”_

They bid each other goodbye casually, the way people do when they are secure in the knowledge that they will see each other again the next day. Casually. As if this isn’t the last goodbye, the closing of a chapter, the end of an era.

“It’s nice to see you again, Juggie,” she tells him, and it takes every ounce of his self-control not to betray every emotion he’s feeling in his body language. Even right now, when all is said and done, he still wants desperately to pull her close to him, to tell her he loves her. To forsake his pride and fall to his knees and beg her to stay, to not leave him. But he can’t. He _can’t_.

So instead he says simply, “You too, Betty.”

He finds himself staring after her cab long after it’s rounded a corner at the far end of the street, then shakes himself out of his reverie and starts in the opposite direction.

Even now, Jughead still believes in the theory of the multiverse.

Right now, there’s a version of him sipping hot cocoa as he listens to Jellybean’s excited commentary as she goes through the presents underneath the Christmas tree and his parents’ easy laughter. Right now, there’s a version of him clutching the receiver close to him as he listens to the voice of his father on the other side of the glass separating them. Right now, there’s a version of him that’s been gone for so long that no one really remembers him anymore. Right now, there’s a version of him scooping up his youngest son, a beautiful boy with green eyes like his mother. He doesn’t stop himself this time. He can picture the boy so vividly in his mind now, so close he can almost touch him, but still intangible, imaginary. Just this once, he lets his mind go there, to say goodbye to something he never had. After all, if this day has taught him something, it’s that you can never have closure without facing it head on.

Right now, there’s a universe out there where he and Betty are happy together.

Alas, it just so happens to not be this one.

He wonders if someday, he can be happy, too, in a world without her. That is a question he does not yet have an answer to, but one he intends to find out.

For now, he takes comfort in the small things, in the knowledge that she’s happy.

And that’d have to be enough.

For now.

_fin._

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> The "Adam" that Jughead and Betty keep referring to throughout the fic is indeed meant to be Adam Chisholm, Betty's short-lived comic love interest. 
> 
> Kat'z Delicatessen is the restaurant that Betty and Jughead walked past on their weekend NYC trip in Riverdale #8, and the conversation that they had in front of it led them to realize they wanted different things in life. 
> 
> Pureheart the Powerful and Captain Hero are both superheroes in Archie Comics lore.
> 
> Even though this piece is largely told from Jughead's POV, I have deliberately planted hints and parallels to make Betty's feelings and stance on the whole ordeal clearer, to paint a more complete bigger picture. 
> 
> Hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it!


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